Showing posts with label blog hop. Show all posts
Showing posts with label blog hop. Show all posts

Tuesday, September 1, 2020

A summertime passion play - #MFRWAuthor #MFRWHooks #Dominance

The Understudy cover
 

Welcome to this week’s edition of Marketing for Romance Book Hooks. It’s still summer, so I’m sharing a bit from my erotic romance The Understudy, which is set among the players at a summer stock theater in the scenic hills of western Massachusetts.

When you’ve sampled my Book Hook, I hope you’ll visit the other authors participating in today’s hop. You’ll find their links at the end of my post.

Is there a future in playing stand-in to a slave?

Sarah Gladstone was thrilled to be offered her first real acting job at the Berks Summer Playhouse. She never expected to be working with theatre legend Geoffrey Hart. The charismatic actor quickly brings her under his spell, not to mention his control, as he initiates her into the dark delights of BDSM. He offers her far more than physical pleasure; they share a level of intimacy and trust beyond anything Sarah could have imagined.
 

According to the rumours, though, Geoff's heart is taken. Renowned actress Anne Merrill, his long time partner and submissive lover, has severed their relationship and Hart has escaped to the Berkshires to lick his emotional wounds. With her youth, inexperience, and girl-next-door persona, Sarah knows that she can't compete with the glamorous theatre veteran. She fears that she's just a substitute for the real object of Geoff's affections. As he draws her deeper into his intoxicating games of dominance and submission, Sarah wonders if she's willing to settle for the role of understudy in this perverse passion play.


 

The Hook

It’s him!” Adele tugged at my shirt, almost hard enough to tear it. “Look, Sarah!” She pointed to the shiny black Lincoln cruising around the corner. “I still can’t believe it! We’re really going to have a chance to work with Geoffrey Hart!” The wooden porch shook as my friend literally jumped up and down with excitement. Adele’s temperament matched her fiery hair.

Of course my own heart beat faster than normal as the town car approached the inn at a sedate pace. Geoffrey Hart was a legend in American theatre. Since his first appearance off-Broadway ten years earlier, he had won every award in the world of drama. He’d played every prestigious role from Oedipus to Willy Loman. One summer in Central Park I’d seen him as both Hamlet and King Lear. He was astonishing, equally convincing as the callow, indecisive university student and the bitter, world-weary old man. His magical voice, full of nuance and music, reached the back row without amplification. His body language was eloquent with emotion. In both plays, he’d made me cry. His performances were an inspiration, one of the things that finally made me settle on drama—much to my parent’s chagrin.

I’d been thrilled when the Berk Hills Playhouse offered me a place for the summer. I never in a million years expected that I’d meet the man who had been such a role model.

But why on earth was he coming here, to a little summer stock theatre in the rural hills of western Massachusetts? The last news I saw, he was lead actor and part owner of the Gotham Repertory Company. What could possibly have induced him to abandon the city for the sticks?

I heard that he broke up with Anne Merrill,” said Adele, sotto voce, as if she’d read my mind. “She dumped him. He’s come out here to the country to lick his wounds.”

What? Who told you that?” I recalled the actor’s handsome face and imposing presence. It was hard to believe someone would dump him—he seemed like the type to do the dumping.

I can’t reveal my sources.” Adele’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “But the word is that his heart is broken.”

Oh come on!” I just couldn’t imagine someone like Hart moping about a woman. “Seriously?”

I wouldn’t lie to you, would I?” She put her arm around my shoulders and gave me a quick hug. “And that’s not all. There are rumours about their relationship—that it was, well, kinky, if you know what I mean. According to the grapevine, she wasn’t just his girlfriend. She was also his slave.”

Please! You shouldn’t believe every bit of gossip you hear.”

I’m just saying…”

Shush! They’re here.”

The town car slid to a silent stop in front of the steps. The uniformed driver opened the back door, then stood back to let his passenger alight. For a long moment nothing happened—like the suspense before the curtain rises. I realised I was holding my breath.

A pair of long legs clad in black emerged from the shadowy interior. A lean torso followed, wearing a white shirt open at the neck under a black jacket. Finally, I could see his face.

Up close—he stood no more than a dozen yards from us—he looked more rugged and less refined than he had seemed on stage. Thick black hair curled above a noble forehead. I had a sudden, almost irresistible urge to bury my fingers in those lustrous waves. He had a Mediterranean complexion and a proud nose with a slight hook. I remembered reading that he was part Armenian and part Italian, despite his British stage name. His square jaw suggested stubbornness, his wide mouth and full lips, sensuality. His eyes were set deep under well-shaped, somewhat bushy brows.

He turned those dark eyes on me and I felt suddenly faint. They were the eyes of a predator sizing up his prey. His lips twisted into a half smile, displaying his pearly teeth. I wanted to run, but I was rooted to the spot. My cheeks burned. Sweat gathered under my arms. I realised my nipples were hard, pressing painfully against the constraining fabric of my bra, and I said a silent prayer of thanks that I’d at least worn a bra today. At least he couldn’t see those brazen nubs. The way he looked at me, though, with that focused, cruel attention, made me feel completely naked.

Buy The Understudy

Amazon: https://www.amazon.com/dp/B005CQP77I/

BN: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/the-understudy-lisabet-sarai/1106799949

Totally Bound: https://www.totallybound.com/index.php?route=product/product&product_id=1175


Be sure to check out the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!



Wednesday, July 22, 2020

Sign up for Charity Sunday 26 July! #BlogHop #Altruism #Marketing

service, gratitude, kindness image

Image by John Hain from Pixabay 
  
This coming Sunday, the 26th of July, will be the next Charity Sunday.

Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, attract new readers. 

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before Charity Sunday, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog.

For more detailed instructions, go here: 

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2019/08/sign-up-for-charity-sunday.html

You can get my Charity Sunday banner here.

For an example, check out last month's Charity Sunday post.

Sunday, June 21, 2020

Charity Sunday: Cure SMA #CharitySunday #SMA @CureSMA

Charity Sunday banner

Welcome to the Charity Sunday blog hop for June!

Today I’ve decided to support the cause that started me doing Charity Sundays. Looking back, I was amazed to discover that was in June of 2017 – three years ago! Anyway, that first Charity Sunday was a post on behalf of my cousin Danny, who was born with Spinal Muscular Atrophy (SMA), a genetic disorder that affects roughly 1 in 11,000 births. SMA is a disease that robs people of physical strength by affecting the motor nerve cells in the spinal cord, taking away the ability to walk, eat, or breathe. It is the number one genetic cause of death for infants.

The majority of babies born with SMA die before they reach their first birthday. Danny was lucky enough to be in trial of the experimental drug Spinraza. He’s now five years old. Although he is still severely disabled, physically, he’s alive and active, going to school, supported by a loving family and an informed medical establishment.

CureSMA is an organization dedicated to fostering research on SMA, providing authoritative information for individuals and families dealing with SMA, and advocating for government policies that assist rather than disadvantage SMA sufferers.




Anyway, for today’s Charity Sunday, I will donate $2 to CureSMA for every comment I receive. And to give you something to comment on, here’s a quick excerpt from my latest release, D&S Duos Book 6. This is a snippet from the first story, “Muse”.




Will you sign my copy of your book?”

Her wrist ached from two hours of autographs and she was desperate for caffeine, but she managed a professional smile. “Of course.”

The last person in a line that had stretched out the door at the start of the event, he didn’t look like her typical reader. His shaggy black hair needed cutting and he could have used a shave. He wore beige zip-up coveralls, a Yankees jacket, and dusty boots. A bit scruffy. Forgettable. His eyes, though, were anything but. They burned in his aquiline face, fierce, passionate, almost crazed. A quiver of unease swept through her. It was a terrible cliché – who would know better than she? – but in the intensity of that stare, she really did feel totally naked.

Smiling more broadly to hide her discomfort, she accepted the paperback he offered. The cover featured a powerfully built man in a leather hood with a scantily-clad blonde kneeling at his feet.
 
She flipped to the title page: Slave to Love by Melissa Appleton.

To...?”

To my master.” He pitched his voice low. No one else could have heard, but that didn’t stop hot blood from climbing to her cheeks or sudden moisture from soaking her panties.

Excuse me, sir, but I don’t think...” She peered frantically around the bookstore, at the browsing customers and busy clerk. Nobody had noticed. Some force dragged her back to meet the brazen challenge in his eyes.

You should think, Lissa. Is this what you really want?” He made a dismissive gesture toward the volume on the table. “Knotted silk scarves and soft, sweet kisses? Velvet blindfolds and spanking games? ‘Slaves’ who surrender for a half-dozen pages, then go about their lives as though nothing has changed?”

I – my fans – the market...”

Screw the market.” His coarseness made her shudder and yet her nipples snapped into tight, hard peaks as if he’d ordered them to attention. “You want more. I know you do.”

He loomed over the table, an undeniable presence despite his no more than average height. She shrank back into her chair, her pulse loud and fast in her ears, her thighs slippery. “I know you, Lissa. I’ve read every book you’ve written. I’ve watched you, on the street, at readings, working at your computer. You don’t want timid games. You’re afraid to admit it – I understand – but you want marks. Bruises. Blood. You want to be tested, stretched to the breaking point and beyond.”

He captured her right wrist in his big, bony hand. The fountain pen fluttered in her fingers like a caged bird. “Write me your fantasies, and I’ll make them real. Show me your rawest, darkest dreams – all the filthy details. Then trust me to fulfill them.”

Clearly he was mad. Perhaps even dangerous. She should call Jeremy, the manager, or the security guard who was taking a break now that the crowd had dispersed. Somehow she couldn’t move. His grip wasn’t tight. She could have pulled her hand away. But his eyes bored into her and his voice stilled her, holding her transfixed like a pinned insect.

I can’t...” she murmured.

I say you can. If you choose.” He leaned closer, until she felt his warm breath on her face. He smelled of tobacco and wood varnish. “It’s up to you, Lissa, to take the first step.”

D&S Duos Book 6 is available at all your favorite online bookstores.







Add on Goodreads:

Don’t forget to leave a comment! Every one of them helps kids like my cousin Danny.


And while I’ve got your attention – I do hope you’ll visit the other bloggers participating in today’s Charity Sunday. Each one of them is showcasing a cause dear to her heart.


Wednesday, June 17, 2020

Sign up for Charity Sunday 21 June! #BlogHop #Altruism #Marketing

Love Hands image

This coming Sunday, the 21st of June, will be the next Charity Sunday. 
  
Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, attract new readers.  

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before Charity Sunday, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog. 

For more detailed instructions, go here:  

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2019/08/sign-up-for-charity-sunday.html


You can get my Charity Sunday banner here.

For an example, check out last month's Charity Sunday post.


Wednesday, May 27, 2020

The Ingredients of Bliss - #MFRWHooks #BDSMRomance #Menage


Ingredients of Bliss cover

For today’s Book Hooks hop, I’ve picked out a never-before-shared excerpt from my BDSM ménage romance novel, The Ingredients of Bliss. I had a lot of fun writing this, at least partially because I could work in a lot of memories from a trip to France I’d taken the year before I wrote it – including lots of food!

Enjoy!

One sexy French chef. One kinky American TV producer. One ambitious Chinese gal who thinks she wants them both. The ingredients of bliss? Or a recipe for disaster?

Accomplished cook Mei Lee ‘Emily’ Wong knows exactly what she wants—her own show on the Tastes of France food channel. But life is full of complications. First, her deceptively nerdy producer, Harry Sanborne, initiates Emily into the delights of submission. Then her boss, legendary chef Etienne Duvalier, begs her to dominate him. Emily just can’t resist—especially when Harry orders her to explore her inner mistress. Suave and sexy Etienne will do whatever she asks—in the bedroom if not in the kitchen. And Harry, her lovingly diabolical Dom, adores pushing Emily’s limits.

When the network sends the trio to France to shoot a series of cooking shows on location, Emily knows her career is on the upswing. Her plans fall apart in Marseille as a Hong Kong drug syndicate kidnaps both Etienne and Harry. The Iron Hammer Triad mistakes Etienne for notorious gangster Jean Le Requin, who has stolen their drug shipment, worth millions. Emily realizes she must find the real Le Requin, retrieve the purloined dope, and bargain it for Harry’s and Etienne’s lives. The secret she’s been keeping from Harry might prove useful. Still, what chance does one woman whose knife skills are limited to chopping vegetables, have against the ruthless cruelty of two criminal organizations?




“‘Silk worker’s brains’? Are you joking, Etienne?”

Not at all. You’ve never encountered cervelle de canut? A Lyonnais specialty, and quite delicious, I might add.”

Morning sunlight poured through tall windows into the demonstration kitchen of the École Supériore de Cuisine Lyonnais, the site for our show that afternoon. Seated side by side at a butcher block table, Etienne and I pored over drafts of menus and recipes. I was trying to ignore the effects his closeness had on the speed of my pulse and the humidity of my pussy.

Er—do you really think our American audience will be interested in brains?” We Chinese have a reputation for eating almost anything—I have a particular fondness for zhafeichang, deep fried pork intestines with sweet bean sauce—but I knew that Westerners tended to be more squeamish.

No brains are actually involved, Mei Lee. The dish is based on fromage blanc, seasoned with fresh herbs, shallots, olive oil and vinegar. Very savory, I assure you, and unique to the Lyon region.”

All right—whatever you recommend.”

Etienne shot me a sharp look, as though he found my acquiescence surprising. Today he looked devastating, as usual, in a blindingly white dress shirt tucked into narrow black jeans. He had rolled up his sleeves. The red-gold hair dusting his forearms was very distracting. I knew how soft it was.

We’ll do quenelles de brochet, Lyonnais potatoes of course, salade Lyonnais with bacon and poached egg, and marrons glacés for dessert. Do you think that’s enough?”

For an hour-long show? Plenty. I’ve never made the quenelles, though.

You’ll find them straightforward. Baked fish, bread crumbs, egg yolk, a standard cream sauce—quite simple.”

I’d sampled quenelles the previous evening, while dining at a classic bouchon with Harry and Etienne and thought them a bit bland. To be honest, though, I hadn’t really paid much attention to the food for which Lyon was renowned. My senses were too dazzled by the proximity of my two lovers. Although I’d consumed only one glass of the robust Beaujolais presented by the rotund proprietor, I’d felt totally intoxicated, joy bubbling through my veins like champagne.

My mind wandered, reviewing the marvels of the last twenty-four hours.

After the astonishing night with Harry and Etienne in Paris, the routine details of traveling felt completely unreal. Along with the rest of the crew, we’d piled onto the bus for the four hour drive to Lyon. I’d shared my seat with Lisa, not wanting to encourage any gossip. I’m afraid I hadn’t been very sociable. I’d been preoccupied with recollections of the night’s pleasures. Whenever we’d stopped for a bathroom break, I’d felt the eyes of both men following me. I’d spent the entire trip in a fever of anticipation.

Once we’d arrived and settled into the hotel, they’d whisked me away to the narrow, cobbled lanes of the medieval Old Town. We’d roamed the streets together, poking our heads into cramped souvenir shops, sampling bits of sausage and cheese, pausing in a café facing the majestic Cathédrale St-Jean to admire the sunset behind the hills of Fourvière.

The golden summer dusk had slipped gradually into a violet evening. Every sensory impression had possessed a sort of magical clarity—the lilt of children’s voices as they’d kicked a ball around the cathedral square, the twittering of starlings wheeling above the tiled roofs, the saliva-inducing smell of grilling pork emanating from the open doors of traditional bistros, the anise flavor of the Ricard that Etienne had ordered for Harry and me. The warmth of the balmy night and the heat coming from my lover’s bodies. I’ll remember this all my life, I’d thought, gazing at them in the deepening gloom.

They’d kept touching me. A brush of casual fingers against my thigh. An arm encircling my waist. A powerful hand, clasping and squeezing mine. We’d spoken of superficialities, the history of the city, the show the next day, which restaurant we should choose for dinner. The silent messages we’d exchanged had dealt with different topics all together.

Old Town quarter of Lyon

The Ingredients of Bliss is available in ebook and print at Amazon, Barnes and Noble, Totally Bound, and other fine bookstores.

Be sure to visit all the other great authors joining today’s hop, for lots more romance!

Tuesday, May 19, 2020

Join in the Charity Sunday blog hop - #CharitySunday #BlogHop #altruism #marketing

Love font
 Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay 

This coming Sunday, the 24th of May, will be the next Charity Sunday. 
  
Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, attract new readers.  

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before Charity Sunday, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog. 

For more detailed instructions, go here:  

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2019/08/sign-up-for-charity-sunday.html


You can get my Charity Sunday banner here.

For an example, check out last month's Charity Sunday post.


Wednesday, May 6, 2020

MFRW Book Hooks: Rough Weather -- #MFRWHooks #MFRWAuthor #ParanormalRomance


Rough Weather cover


Welcome to this week’s Book Hooks blog hop. My hook today is from my paranormal romance Rough Weather. I love this book, partly because it’s set in Martha’s Vineyard – one of my favorite places in the world.

Enjoy!

Destiny hides in the tempest’s heart

Ondine has always felt at home in the sea. Orphaned at birth and raised by her grandmother on the island of Martha’s Vineyard, she has never really questioned her extraordinary affinity for the watery world. She concentrates on her work as a marine biologist, spends her weekends relaxing among the waves and worries about human threats to her beloved ocean environment. Fears of a deadly pregnancy like her mother’s make her cautious about sex.

When she encounters an attractive but arrogant engineer on her private beach, surveying the site for a prospective off-shore wind farm, anger is her first reaction. A casual touch, however, transforms that emotion to incomprehensible, irresistible, terrifying lust.

Ebony-skinned Marut has his own talents—aside from his uncanny ability to swamp Ondine with desire. He can control the winds and summon storms. He informs Ondine that they share a supernatural heritage and claims she is his destined mate. She responds with scepticism and tries to resist the charismatic Haitian, but ultimately her scientist’s training won’t permit her to deny the evidence of her senses—and her heart. As a brutal northeaster batters the island and Marut’s life hangs in the balance, Ondine learns that true power lies in surrender to her elemental nature.



The Hook

A high-pitched whine drew her attention to the tumbled boulders that marked the eastern extent of the beach. Atop the pile of rock crouched a dark-skinned man, boring into the surface with some kind of drill.

Hey! What are you doing?” Ondine strode towards the interloper, still holding her discarded clothing. “That noise—you’ll disturb the fish!” She halted on the sand below his perch, one hand shielding her eyes from the glare. “Stop that this instant!”

The stranger raised his head and fixed her with eyes like polished jet, set in a proud face almost as black. A cloud of wiry hair haloed his skull. He flipped a switch and the irritating noise died. His full lips parted in a confident smile, revealing even, pearly teeth. He rose to his full height—at least six feet, she guessed, though her position made him look even taller—and gazed down at her.

Self-consciousness blasted through her as she suddenly remembered she was naked. Hot blood raced to her face while her nipples tightened into ruddy peaks, and an echo of her recent climax shimmered in her still-damp pussy.

The stranger looked distinctly amused, as though he sensed the physical effects his presence triggered. There was something else, too, an unnerving sense of familiarity, although Ondine was certain she’d never met this man before.

She squared her shoulders, ignoring her embarrassment as best she could. She wasn’t ashamed of her body—far from it. “You can’t drill here. Tide pool habitats are very sensitive. The vibrations could kill crustacean larvae, for a start, and confuse organisms that rely on echolocation…”

The black man’s grin grew broader. He scanned her nude figure with deliberate and obvious interest before he answered. Ondine’s nipples ached under his scrutiny, even as her blood boiled at his brazen attitude.

I have a permit.” His voice had an unexpected softness, with a faint hint of the Caribbean. He rifled in the pocket of his tight jeans and pulled out a sheet of paper, which he offered her. “Mass DEP. Go ahead and check. I think you’ll find it’s all in order.”

The sun beat down, hotter than ever. Sweat gathered under her arms and at the back of her neck. Ignoring the proffered permit, she planted her fists on her hips and summoned every ounce of authority she could muster.

This beach is private, reserved for Katama residents. What’s your business here?”

Stuffing the permit back into his pants, he sank into a crouch to pick up a piece of equipment that he’d propped against a rock, next to a two-meter steel pole. His thigh muscles flexed against taut denim as he rose. His white T-shirt emphasised his ebony skin, sculpted pectorals and massive biceps—her mouth felt dry and her pussy, wet. “I’m installing a temporary meteo-hydrographic monitoring station.” The device bristled with lenses, buttons and dials, the pinwheel of an anemometer, and the tongue-like extrusion of a rain gauge. “Come on up. Take a look.”

Just a minute.” She stepped into her shorts, then pulled her shirt over her head, trying to ignore the sensation of fleece brushing across her naked breasts. In her bare feet, she clambered up over the knobby, rust-coloured stone until she stood beside him. He towered over her. She caught a whiff of sandalwood and coconut oil and was washed by sudden desire.

He pointed to a white plastic rectangle. “This is the hygrometer, the humidity sensor.”

Yes, yes, I understand. You’ve got a laser ceilometer for cloud height, I see, and an infrared camera for thermal imaging…”

What…?”

She found his surprise gratifying, as he realised she wasn’t just a naked, blonde beach bunny.

Buy Links (only 99 cents!)




I hope you’ll drop by to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks!

Wednesday, April 22, 2020

Sign Up for Charity Sunday! #BlogHop #CharitySunday

This is the sign....
 Photo by Austin Chan on Unsplash

This coming Sunday, the 26th of April, will be the next Charity Sunday. 
  

Charity Sunday is a meme designed to give authors and bloggers a chance to give back to the world—as well as, hopefully, attract new readers.  

How does it work? Each participant selects a favorite charity. Before Charity Sunday, you should prepare a blog post that: 1) talks about the charity and why you support it; 2) provides a link to the charity; 3) includes an excerpt from one of your books; 4) includes the code to show links to other participating blogs.

It’s fun if you can make the excerpt relate somehow to your chosen charity, but this isn’t required.

For every comment left on your post, you commit to giving some amount to the relevant charity. The specific charity and the amount to donate are up to you. You can set an upper limit to your donation if you want.

If you’d like to participate in the next Charity Sunday, just sign up using the Linky List below. Please be sure that the link you enter will lead directly to your Charity Sunday post, not just to the home page of your blog. 

For more detailed instructions, go here:  

https://lisabetsarai.blogspot.com/2019/08/sign-up-for-charity-sunday.html


You can get my Charity Sunday banner here.

For an example, check out last month's Charity Sunday post.

Wednesday, March 11, 2020

Let me show you who you really are... #MFRWHooks #MFRWAuthor #BDSM #Romance


Book Hooks Banner


It has been ages since I participated in Book Hooks. I wanted to give my readers a really romantic snippet, so I’ve chosen a bit from near the end of my BDSM erotic romance The Heart of the Deal.

I find it desperately romantic, at least ... ;^)

Enjoy!

Blurb

All's fair in lust and business

Ruby Maxwell Chen, the lovely and ruthless CEO of a sprawling British business empire, has no qualms about playing dirty – very dirty. She’s happy to use sex to help her close a deal, especially when she’s the one on top. Ruby loves the game, and she expects to win. When she encounters the inexplicably charismatic American entrepreneur Rick Martell, though, she wonders if she hasn't finally met her match.

From
the trendy clubs of London to the Hollywood Hills, Ruby and Rick compete for ownership of a strategic factory in Malaysia. As their struggle for dominance escalates and their mutual lust flares, they draw their employees and associates into their outrageous power games. The stakes could scarcely be higher, as Ruby and Rick play for the ultimate prize: a night of total physical surrender.



The Hook

It’s a glorious day. The sun is hotter and closer than it ever is in England. There’s a smart breeze that whips my hair around my face and leaves me strangely breathless. Like champagne, Rick had said, and I can feel it, tingling bubbles bursting in my chest, singing through my veins.

We don’t speak. There is no need, and in any case, the wind would carry our words away. There is the splash of the waves against our bow, the wailing of gulls, the snap of the canvas as the wind shifts directions. Catalina Island is a low-lying shadow on the horizon ahead. The coast has disappeared behind us, though a yellowish band of smog marks its presence.

Rick and I are alone in the middle of the sea. I feel strangely relaxed, though the lust that he always inspires is humming in my limbs. I steal another glance at him, tanned, confident, in control. It’s difficult to reconcile this with my memories of him squirming beneath me as I reamed his poor virgin arsehole.

He must feel the weight of my gaze, for he looks up at me and our eyes lock. He grins that annoying, delightful grin of his, full of arrogance and mischief. Fearful anticipation shivers up my spine.

He hooks a loop of rope over the tiller. “I thought perhaps we might stop here for a while,” he says softly. Before I completely digest his intentions, he has lowered and secured the sails. The Stella Maris drifts, rocking gently in the swells. I am suddenly afraid, realizing that I am isolated and alone with this man who is, as I know very well, dangerous. A taker of risks. Looking around us, I see other sails, but they are too distant to call to, too far away to see anything other than the pennants on our masts.

Now, Ruby,” he whispers as he takes me in his arms, “you are at my mercy.”

Despite his words his kiss is gentle, almost worshipful. When he touches me I comprehend how badly I have been longing for this. I melt into him, open myself to his tongue and his fingers, which find their way unerringly to the aching chasm between my thighs. Yes, please, I beg silently, grinding myself down on his invading hand. He slides the other hand under my tank top and gives my nipple a harsh twist, muffling my cries with his mouth.

Everything is heat and wetness; the sun, my sex, his lips at the hollow of my throat, his tongue teasing my earlobe. His breath is hot in my ear.

Let me take you, Ruby. Let me bind you. Let go, for once, fully and completely, and allow me to show you who you really are, who you can be.”

Buy Links

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Be sure to visit the other authors participating in today’s Book Hooks blog hop!